


Practical

by Cardinal_Daughter



Category: Dragon Ball, Dragon Ball Z
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Cultural Differences, F/M, Romance, Saiyan Mating Rituals, Some Humor, neck biting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2016-11-22
Packaged: 2018-09-01 13:38:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8626570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cardinal_Daughter/pseuds/Cardinal_Daughter
Summary: She's a practical woman. He's a practical man. It's only natural their coming together would be borne of that singular disposition. 

  Or, somehow Vegeta's bad attempts at flirting actually pay off.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The majority of Saiyan customs listed in this fic are entirely my own head canons. 
> 
> The neck-biting to "mark one's mate" is not mine but it's so good it should just be freaking canon already. 
> 
> Toriyama said in an interview that Vegeta basically initiated things between him and Bulma, and I just imagine him being very straightforward about the whole thing, as well as terribly BAD at it. 
> 
> But because Bulma is a giant freaking nerd herself, it totally works. 
> 
> Also, apologies for any mistakes that were missed.

Of all the customs on Earth he didn't understand, Vegeta was most confused by the process in which one chose a mate. On Vegeta-sei, partners were chosen from a practical standpoint.

Of course, relationships were not entirely callous and unfeeling. As in battle, mated couples required a level of trust and respect for one another, such that to fight alongside someone in battle was considered the highest honor. Respect and trust were the foundation of all relationships for Saiyans; trust in battle and in life were key to survival. But love- as Earth seemed to be obsessed with- was not a factor.

In fact, Saiyans were infamous for their morality tales, epic poems orally passed down through generations that told of warriors abandoning their destiny for love, and the tragedy that befell them for it. Love was a curse, an emotion of lesser creatures. It made one weak, and weakness was not permitted on Vegeta-sei.

But on Earth, love was the guiding force that dictated what many people did. People tore their lives apart for love; humans made sacrifices and went through a metaphorical hell all in the name of love, forsook family and friends, and even abandoned goals and dreams. From Vegeta's point of view, love was a foolish endeavor.

But then Vegeta watched those who had overcome him, and saw that they loved. Familial love, romantic love, platonic love, they all shared it, expressed it freely, and Vegeta watched with mild interest and a great deal of confusion as love surrounded him at every turn, but never quite within his grasp of understanding.

It didn't make sense; it wasn't practical, and Vegeta wondered as to how he'd been beaten by such seemingly ridiculous people.

Whether because of or in spite of this confusion, it came as a great surprise to Vegeta when he realized one day about ten months into his stay at the Briefs' family compound that he might _love_ Bulma Briefs. It was not a grand moment as all the stories had described. There was no pain, no momentary pause in the heat of battle, no sudden burst of light or sound or anything quite as dramatic as the Saiyan tales suggested the doom of falling in love to be. There was only quiet, gentle, understanding that washed over him as he watched her repair one of his training bots, listening half-heartedly as she explained the process, something he normally took a great interest in.

But today he was distracted by an internal conflict. And for the first time in his life, Vegeta chose not to fight.

And why should he? Bulma was beautiful- he wasn't so daft as to deny that. But more importantly, she was intelligent. What she lacked in physical power she more than compensated for in other areas. She couldn't beat the androids herself, but she damn well would have a hand in their demise. Her inventions were a thing of beauty: the metal and iron and lines of code had been the foundation of their relationship: a common ground on which they could stand and talk as equals, something Vegeta had never considered anyone might be with him.

And because of that equality, because of her strange allure, her sharp mind, and her courage (foolishness?) to stand toe-to-toe with him and yell at him until she was hoarse made her everything Vegeta could have wanted in a potential mate.

There were no Saiyan females anymore, but Bulma was a prime example of the excellency of humans, and more than qualified in Vegeta's mind. She had his respect and his trust- she'd proven worthy of those in an instant. But he longed to give her something more. The highest honor of his people seemed almost subpar when it came to her, and when he pondered what more he might give her, his mind had flickered to love.

And his heart beat in agreement.

He'd never known love. Love was weakness, and Vegeta had spent his entire life working to ensure he had no weakness. Everything in his life had been born of hate, or revenge, or power. He strove for those things too; power most of all. And so what should have been unnatural to him in every way still found its way into the depths of his heart- a heart he long thought incapable and unwilling to care for anyone else. And when the realization dawned that not only- in spite of everything- _could_ he love but that he in fact _did_ , he accepted it as fact, another truth he could not escape, and rather than wrestle with something internal and existential, he decided to merely make the most of it.

But with this newfound understanding, Vegeta had no idea what to do. Did he simply approach her and tell her that he wanted her to be his mate, mother to the heir of the Saiyan throne? Surely such a straightforward solution would be acceptable for her, sensible creature that she often was, but he also was keenly aware of the bizarre mating rituals of Earth. Courting, a sentiment popular amongst numerous planets he'd visited, was present here as well, though much more casual and certainly more confusing. There seemed to be no strict rules as there had been on other planets. Or if there were, Vegeta was unaware of them.

One thing he did know, was that Bulma had been courting the weakling named Yamcha for some time, but while the next logical step was to bond and reproduce, neither Bulma nor the scar-faced man seemed inclined to pursue the next step.

Vegeta wondered why that was.

He only had to wait a few days for his answer, when his sensitive ears picked up a shouting match between the two, followed by a long silence, then softer words he couldn't quite make out, and the soft shutting of a door.

He found Bulma later in her lab, focus entirely on her latest project and oblivious to the tears that slipped down her cheeks.

Slowly, Vegeta moved toward Bulma, amused as she jumped in surprise when his presence was finally noticed.

"Shit, you scared me," she said with a good cheer that sounded entirely forced, "Make a noise next time." She turned back to the machine, then seemed to realize her face was wet. Absently she wiped her eyes with her lab coat, mumbling about 'damn allergies.'

Vegeta knew allergies, if his three month stint on Vega 9 had taught him anything on the matter. Those had been dark days indeed, and he was grateful this planet did not have the same affect on him as Vega 9 had. Vegeta was also astute enough to know the woman had yet to suffer allergies, and he ignored her bluff.

"No pathetic human male is worth your tears," he said, voice gruff but entirely uncertain. He'd never addressed personal matters with her before, despite the numerous conversations they'd shared in the heat of her lab. Bulma glanced up at him, eyes still wet but entirely unimpressed.

"Let me guess? You would be though, right?"

Vegeta shrugged. "I would not be stupid enough to make you cry."

Her look was one of surprise, cheeks burning a deep red as she stared at him, considering the truth of his words. Finally she sighed and turned back to her project. "You'd be the first, then."

He did not know what to say to that, so he merely turned and walked away. When he reached the door, Bulma called out to him, "Hey, Vegeta?"

He turned. Bulma offered him a small smile. "Thank you."

He grunted in response, then exited the lab. As he reflected on the conversation later, he wondered if perhaps making her smile had been a good first step in the courting process.

At least the other man was out of the picture. That helped his chances considerably.

Two days later Vegeta considered a second display of his intentions. He was uncertain what to do, for despite the moment with Bulma in her lab, he'd seen little of her since. Granted he'd dedicated himself to his training but in the moments when he stopped for food or a shower, he'd noticed she was nowhere to be seen. A carefully worded question to her mother informed him that Bulma had been in her lab almost continuously since the breakup.

"She's hardly come up for air since sweet Yamcha left. I do hope she's all right. I tried to take her some food but she said she wasn't hungry."

Vegeta scowled. Bulma had proven she could be just as focused and stubborn as him, working on some project for hours on end, forgetting to eat or sleep. She often chided him for not taking care of himself, though. Would she really disregard her own advice?

Determined to make sure she was alright, as well as further his courting rituals- giving food was a sign of interest on some planets he'd been too- he decided to take her her favorite food.

Vegeta paused as the thought passed. He knew her favorite food. Vegeta had never known such fact about someone before.

Waiting until Bulma's mother left the kitchen to pursue... whatever it was she did... Vegeta found where they kept the cups of noodles Bulma loved and busied himself making two: one for her and one for him. Then he rummaged through the cupboards before finding a bar of chocolate- a disgusting sweet that most humans seemed to have a distinct weakness to- and ventured to the lab.

When he knocked he heard Bulma mutter something about being busy, but entered nonetheless. Bulma looked up, gaze hard and annoyed but quickly melted into a look of pleasant surprise at the sight of Vegeta.

"What's up?"

Wordlessly, Vegeta placed one cup in front of her, then placed the chocolate beside it.

"You need food."

She looked as if she were about to argue, however her stomach took the opportunity to growl just at that moment. She looked away sheepishly, cheeks burning.

"I guess I am a bit hungry."

"Working almost non-stop will do that to a person, or so I've had relentlessly nagged at me since my arrival."

Bulma stuck her tongue out at him playfully, then grabbed a cup and began to eat.

She sighed in contentment as the warmth soaked into her stiff bones. "How long have I been down here exactly?" She glanced at her tablet to check the time, eyes widening in shock "Damn. No wonder I feel like shit. Probably look hideous, too."

"Your appearance is adequately pleasing, regardless of how unkempt you are."

Bulma arched a brow at that, staring as Vegeta ate from his own cup.

"Am I delirious too or was that a _compliment_?"

"You are delirious."

Bulma sat back in her chair, pulling her knees up to her chest. "My favorite food brought to me and a compliment. Consider me amazed."

Grumbling, Vegeta looked away, "I'm only looking out for myself," he replied, uncertain how to handle her teasing. He'd thought she would have been more thankful, not making fun of him! "If you die of starvation, I'll have no one competent enough to modify the gravity room."

"That sounded like _another_ compliment," Bulma remarked with a bright smile, and the way she looked at him was far more endearing than she'd ever looked at Yamcha. That had to be good. "Why I may die of shock instead of malnourishment!"

Vegeta grumbled, told her to get some rest soon, then left, the image of her gaze burned into his memory. When he resumed his training later that day, instead of visions of surpassing Kakarot spurring him forward, it was the thought of next seeing Bulma.

The next day, Bulma passed him in the hallway and offered him another brilliant smile, this one soft and offered as freely as she offered everything to him.

He started thinking of other ways he might make her smile at him.

What the hell was wrong with him?

Several days later, Vegeta watched as Bulma talked pleasantly with a gentleman who was apparently a fellow business associate. He was well dressed, and he seemed to have a keen understanding that, for a human male, he was quite attractive.

They were standing in the lobby of Capsule Corp as Vegeta entered, clearly finalizing some small details of a business deal. Bulma was charming as always, smiling prettily to the much taller gentleman. The smile was kind, but it wasn't as bright as the ones she'd given him. She'd shined when she'd smiled at Vegeta; now she barely shimmered, the gesture almost forced.

The other man leaned close to her, oblivious to her disapproval and making Vegeta bristle with quiet rage. That rage burned hotter when the man reached out and affectionately laid his hand on Bulma's arm, fingers wrapped around the bend of her elbow, smug smile on his thin lips. With half a mind to march over and remove the man's hand from Bulma (and from his body entirely) Vegeta paused and examined the feeling of jealousy that was coursing through him. She was not his mate and he knew how offended she would be if he caused a scene, so he remained where he was, watching.

With about the same enthusiasm as she handled the Saiyan's dirty laundry, she gingerly tugged the hand off her and dropped it unceremoniously away from her, no hint of apology to be seen as her smile faded. She was now all business, features stone cold and so like a Saiyan that Vegeta forgot all his anger and simply watched, transfixed.

"I'm sure you can see yourself out," she said with a tone of finality, "My lawyer will be in touch with yours to finalize the paperwork."

Turning on her heel, she marched out of the room, heedless of the two men she left staring after her, one proud of the fact that she'd handled herself so well, the other slumping from rejection.

Later, as Vegeta pondered what he had witnessed, he recalled numerous times when Yamcha had touched Bulma in a similar fashion. Their touches had been mutual, reciprocated, and much more playful. Embraces, joining hands, kisses- another foreign act of courtship with which Vegeta did not understand but was now very interested in exploring. Bulma had once welcomed Yamcha's touches, but he was no longer in the picture. This other male had been quickly and efficiently rejected, his touch clearly unappealing to Bulma.

Vegeta wondered what she might do were he to touch her. If gifts and compliments were enough to give him smiles, then perhaps he was on the right path. He would repeat the gesture, and her reaction would tell him whether his pursuit of her was in vain just like it had the man in the suit.

He was given an opportunity to discover the answer three days later when Bulma interrupted his training to make a quick update to the gravity room systems.

"I'll be in and out in about fifteen minutes," she said as she readjusted the toolbox she was carrying with slight effort. "Hopefully not too much of a distraction."

Oh, she was a distraction all right.

Vegeta watched as she worked, prolonging her task by asking questions, claiming it was best if he understood the updates she was making. Bulma obliged him happily, talking with the same enthusiasm she always held when discussing her creations. Vegeta listened, looked for an opportunity to touch her that wouldn't be out of place, but found no viable opening.

Finally, Bulma shut the panel door and turned, wiping her hands on the front of her coveralls and looking at Vegeta with a pleased countenance. "There. All upgraded and ready to put you through the training of your life."

She winked, then started to move past him, and Vegeta realized he needed to act. He needed to keep her there so that the opportunity to touch her might present itself. Thinking quickly, he settled on a half-formed plan and spoke: "Thank you."

Bulma stopped, then turned at that, lips curled upward in a surprised but pleased grin, clearly not willing to miss an opportunity to tease him. Just as he'd predicted. "My my. The Saiyan Prince does have manners."

She loved riling him up, and he usually was just as eager to rise to the challenge. Their banters had been one of the few pleasant parts of his stay here, and any other time he would snarl and insult her and count the seconds until she lost her composure and insulted him. Her record was two minutes and thirty-nine seconds.

But Vegeta had another agenda today, and he would not be swayed by her tempting snide remark. Instead, he chose to act, silently lifting his hand, which caught Bulma's attention instantly, and without preamble simply wrapped his hand around her small bicep, holding her gently as the other man had done.

He watched as she glanced down at where he held her, then up to him, eyes full of confusion. Confusion. Not fear, not disgust. Just curiosity.

"What are you doing?"

"Touching you," he said simply, waiting for her reaction.

She gave him a dry look. "Clearly."

She did not move away, however, nor did she remove his hand from her. In fact, Vegeta was certain she shifted fractionally closer.

"May I ask why you're touching me? I was under the impression you thought I had cooties."

Vegeta blinked. "Is that an Earth disease?"

Bulma giggled and stepped closer to Vegeta, reaching up to let her left hand rest on his chest. "Something like that," she said in a tone that hinted it was not, in fact, something like that. "You've never touched me before."

"Well I am now." His grip was threatening to tighten, and he cursed himself for feeling nervous. He was a warrior, damn it, and warriors did not get nervous by pretty girls.

Beautiful, terrifying, brilliant women, however? That was a different story.

"Yes you are," Bulma agreed, clearly amused, "But I'm still left here wondering why the sudden change?"

"The man from before touched you, and you rejected him," Vegeta explained simply, not understanding the nuances of the ritual he was performing and so simply answered with honesty. "I wanted to know if you would react the same with me."

Understanding dawned for Bulma then, bright and warm and illuminating. She smiled knowingly, shifted closer still and said, "You don't smell of cheap cologne and you may be an arrogant ass, but at least you earned that right."

Vegeta allowed himself a moment to process. "And those things are what you value in a mate?"

Bulma blinked, leaning back slightly at his bluntness. Vegeta felt her move away and wondered if he had been incorrect after all. He released his hold on her arm, thinking it best to retreat and reevaluate his plan of action. Had he been wrong? Perhaps touch was not so important in the courting rituals of Earth. And yet humans seemed to thrive on touch, were in fact validated by it at times. Or had he said the wrong thing? Perhaps one did not reveal their intentions so simply.

Or perhaps she did not want him.

His pride ached tremendously at that, wondering why, as the strongest male, she would not want him.

Before he could retreat, Bulma moved again, sensing his desire to leave, and moved her hand from his chest to his arm, mimicking the grip he'd had on her.

"Vegeta," she said slowly, "Do you...like me?"

It was such a strange question. Of course he liked her! He was attempting to perform human courting rituals in an effort to make her his mate! If he had no regard for her, then he would not make such a fool of himself.

He told her as much, gruff and looking away, feeling very much not like the proud Prince of a warrior race.

He heard the smallest of giggles escape her, then felt her other hand on his chin, forcing him to look at her.

She was smiling.

"You know," she said thoughtfully, "You have a better handle on this than most guys. Usually they're atrocious at flirting. But you're not half bad."

His pride swelled tenfold at her praise.

"And I'm glad you're upfront about it. It's refreshing. I'm not a fan of dancing around each other and all that childish stuff. Saying what we mean is a better use of our time."

He nodded in agreement, encouraged. "So then you share my desire to become mates?"

Bulma tilted her head, contemplating his words. "What does that mean, exactly? I'm not agreeing to anything unless I know what you're expecting."

And Kami, if this wasn't why he loved her!

"Your parents are mates. Kakarot and his woman are mates. I would have you as mine."

She nodded, fingers idly tracing over the hard planes of his forearm. "So, marriage, then."

"Is that the Earth equivalent?" He asked, unsure. Bulma nodded.

"Yeah. Though for humans, there's a lot more... hooplah over the whole thing. I doubt Saiyans have weddings."

Vegeta shook his head. "No, we do not."

"Well it's basically a big party where you proclaim your love to your...mate?" She looked at him to make sure she'd used the term correctly. When he nodded she continued, "In front of a bunch of people. I would wear an obnoxiously elaborate dress, you'd wear a tux, and it would be the most painful experience of your life."

"It sounds... unpleasant."

Bulma laughed. "That's putting it lightly!" When she calmed, she continued, "But I can't see you in a tux. Or tolerating the _hundreds_ -" she stressed, "Of people my parents would want to invite. I don't want to endure it. There is cake though," she added as an afterthought, "And lots of food."

"A banquet to celebrate the mating ceremony," Vegeta reasoned.

"Exactly," Bulma agreed. "Do Saiyans celebrate mating like, publicly?"

Vegeta felt himself flush at the thought. "No. It is a private affair in which two who have the greatest respect and trust for one another agree to fight all their battles together. They then join physically to seal the bond."

"Strangely enough, that sounds romantic."

Vegeta frowned. "What exactly is romantic?"

"It's characterized by the expression of love," Bulma explained. "It varies from person to person. Some only accept romance as a grand gesture of some sort. Some detest romance all together. Some view romance as professing your love in the rain or making love on a bed of rose petals. It could be cuddling together and watching a movie or a candlelit dinner. It depends."

"And," Vegeta asked, curious, "What do you consider romantic?"

Bulma took a moment to consider, then smirked devilishly. "I can think of nothing more romantic right now than to be kissed senseless by a Prince in the gravity room I built for him."  
  
Well. That was simple enough.

Vegeta had witnessed kissing; he'd seen Bulma and the weakling male kiss on a few occasions. He'd witnessed couples kiss when he passed by and Mrs. Briefs was watching some ridiculous show on the television. He'd seen Chichi kiss Kakarot- a thought that utterly disgusted him- and so he understood the semantics. A pressing of his lips to hers. He did not know what was so romantic about the gesture, having never experienced it before, but if it was what Bulma wanted, he would oblige her. After he pissed her off, of course.

"Vulgar woman," he growled as he stepped closer to her. Bulma, surprisingly, didn't rise to his bait, but instead grinned wickedly.

"Oh you don't know the _half_ of it."

He smirked, then tilted his head as he had seen others do, and pressed his lips to hers carefully.

Bulma's arms wound around his neck, then she shifted, brushing her lips against his once, twice-

_Oh_.

It suddenly made sense; kissing. A jolt of something pleasant, something akin to power and glory shot through him, and without thinking he gathered Bulma into his arms, knowing only that he needed her closer. Was this what being loved felt like? As if he might burst from the warmth and light that radiated inside him?

Bulma sighed against his mouth and continued to kiss him, her teeth and tongue joining in the fray, slowly teaching the Saiyan what to do. She nipped at his bottom lip and a feral growl escaped him, thrilling at the thought of her sinking her teeth into his neck- the official mark of their mating staining his skin with purple and yellow and green until it healed into a scar that would proclaim to all that he had been chosen.

Wanting to experience more of the sensation that was coursing through him, Vegeta lifted Bulma into his arms, reveling in her squeak of surprise, and carried her to the center console, deposited her on top of the panel, stepped in between her parted legs, and resumed kissing her.

He was quite fond of this kissing business. Particularly when Bulma wrapped her legs around his waist, the feeling almost as comforting as having his tail wrapped around him had once been. Her hands cupped his face, fingers lightly trailing over his cheeks and through his hair. He practically purred at the feeling, and after some encouragement on her part, slid one of his hands into her wild mess of curls to repeat the gesture.

Eventually, Bulma pulled away, just slightly, and rested her forehead against his chest, breathing heavily and feeling flushed. Vegeta was not unmoved by the endeavor either, and his body trembled with want for her.

Sitting up after a long moment, Bulma smiled again, and Vegeta took in the sight of her dark eyes and bruised lips.

It was one of two bruises he ever wanted to bestow upon her.

"Wow," she said, struggling to catch her breath, "Senseless."

"I did as you asked, then," Vegeta said, feeling equally out of sorts in the best way possible.

"Oh, yeah."

"So you will agree to be my mate?"

She gave him a look that told him her answer succinctly. "Why don't we go on a date first," she offered, "I'll make it as bearable for you as I can. Then, you can tell me more about mating," she said with a wiggle of her eyebrows that hinted she knew more than she was letting on, "And we'll go from there."

It wasn't a no, at least.

"A date," he clarified.

She nodded. "The precursor to marriage- becoming mates. It allows us to get to know each other."

"I already know you," he said, indignant. "You are Bulma Briefs. You are a scientist. You create many valuable machines. Your idea of romance is kissing. You do not want a 'wedding'. You drink too much of that foul brown liquid-"

"Coffee is the balm of the weary soul, thank you very much."

"And," Vegeta continued, ignoring her remark, "You are worthy of my trust and respect." He paused, considered, felt the disappointment of his people settle on him, then added defiantly, "And... love."

Bulma gasped at that, a small, breathless sound. "Love?"

He nodded once. "You said you did not want to waste time 'dancing around'. I assume that is a term for not saying what you mean."

"Damn you're smart."

"I am." Of course he was. He hadn't survived this long by being stupid.

"Not gonna lie, that's hot."

Vegeta blinked. "Hot?"

"Attractive. Pleasing. Makes me want to kiss you more."

"Then I shall be smart at all times."

"Smart ass is more like it," Bulma grumbled. Vegeta smirked. Nine minutes and eleven seconds. A new record and personal best.

"What was that?" He asked, smug.

"Nothing," she said, winding her arms around him again to kiss him. He obliged willingly. She pulled away after a moment, cheeks burning bright. "A date. I get to know you, since you seem to already know me-" she rolled her eyes on amusement at that, "Then you can ask me again."

Vegeta nodded. "A reasonable agreement."

"Good," she said, gently pushing him away so she could hop off the console. He steadied her when she wavered and he could sense- see, smell- that she wanted nothing more than to pull him back to the console and remain there for some time.

Instead she steeled herself- and she was proving over and over just how worthy she was!- and nodded once, decided.

"Tonight. We'll go for a picnic. It's more private that way. We'll talk- and by we I mean you-" she poked his chest, "And tomorrow you can ask me again."

"Is a picnic romantic?" He asked as he led her toward the entrance of the gravity room, stopping long enough to pick up her tool box for her, which earned him a pleased look.

"Oh, it absolutely will be." She accepted the toolbox from him, smiled, and with her free hand reached out and rested her hand on his arm. "You're in for a _treat_ , pal."

With that she turned and walked away, leaving Vegeta to his training. He turned the gravity on, 400 times Earth's gravity, and not even the overwhelming pressure that pressed itself upon him could weigh him down.

\------

He didn't know what one wore on a date. He recalled Bulma always dressing up when she would go out on dates with the weakling, but was that expected of him? He supposed it was.

His clothing was limited, to put it simply. He had his Saiyan armor that Bulma had modified and repaired, plus a pair of Earth pants and a shirt that (thankfully) wasn't pink. He was certain no training would occur on this date, so he grabbed the pants- khakis, they'd been called- and the blue button down shirt that hung lonely and previously unused in his closet.

He dressed then went downstairs, grateful that Mrs. Briefs was nowhere in sight. He looked around for a moment, hands in his pockets, then he heard the sound of footsteps coming from around the corner. He looked over, blinking in pleasant surprise to see Bulma in a blue and pink patterned knee length dress. She smiled at him and nodded toward the door. "If you don't want my mother to catch us, then we'd better go."

He followed her out the door without question.

Once outside, Bulma turned to him and smiled. "So. There's a place about 10 miles from here that's pretty secluded. I thought we could go there."

"That's fine."

Bulma's innocent smile turned coquettish. "You'll have to fly us."

Without another word, Vegeta moved to Bulma, lifted her into his arms, and took off into the sky. He flew slower than normal, and did not go as high as he would normally, ever watchful of  
the woman in his arms. She was no warrior. She was no Saiyan. But she took to the air with nary a complaint and she sassed murderous warriors without hesitation. She was brave and wonderful and did not need him to fly, for she had given herself her own wings in the form of her inventions. Nothing could stop her. Which begged the question-

"Why am I carrying you, if you can fly with your gadgets?"

He did not ask rudely, and Bulma seemed to understand that his question was genuine. "Because it's romantic."

Vegeta pondered over that. He could see how it might be romantic, given her previous examples. They were alone, the flight was casual, and he was holding her close, her warmth radiating off her in waves, a comforting feeling.

She leaned closer to him and whispered in his ear, "It's also my way of saying I trust you." She followed the comment with a kiss to his cheek, both words and gesture sweeter than any dessert he'd sampled on the blue planet.

Trust. Respect. The tenants of the Saiyan bond. He'd given her both already, and she'd just offered him one in return.

Why was it suddenly so warm?

She pointed to a field ahead of them, away from the city lights and noise. Vegeta landed and reluctantly let Bulma slip from his embrace. She busied herself opening capsules, and soon a feast lay before them.

"Is this a banquet?" He asked, recalling her description of earlier." She shook her head.

"No. I just know you Saiyans eat way too much."

He grumbled at that, then sat down and filled his plate. They ate together in silence, comfortable with the others' presence and no one else to bother them. When they finished, Bulma packed everything away save the blanket, then shoved Vegeta onto his back- a feat that would have been impossible had he not allowed it- then she settled against him, head resting in the crook of his shoulder. After a moment she reached around, grabbed his arm and wrapped it around her, then settled back against him.

"So. I'm supposed to get to know you,"she said simply, "What's something about you I don't know?"

Vegeta didn't know what to say. He knew this was the object of the evening, but he viewed his life as so unappealing that he has no desire to share those unsavory moments with her. He was no longer a slave to Frieza, but was his own man, and for all that he cared, his life has been nothing until now.

Was that what she wanted to hear?

_Do not dance around_ , he told himself. _She trusts you. As you trust her_. And after taking a deep breath, he made a choice and told her everything.

When he finished his tale, he was dismayed that she pulled away from him. Worried perhaps that he had ruined his chances, he started to sit up and offer to return them home so he could hide in the gravity chamber until the androids arrived, but was surprised when he felt his hand taken captive by hers. Gently, she lifted his hand to her lips and pressed a kiss to his knuckles, and it had not dawned on Vegeta that kisses could be applied anywhere- not just lips.

"Thank you for telling me," she said, voice trembling. "That couldn't have been easy."

"I told you I trusted you. I meant it."

She smiled at that. Kissed his hand again. "So you're a Prince to a people who were- regrettably- destroyed. You spent your life in the unwilling service of that bastard Frieza, and now you're here."

That about summed it up. Vegeta shifted uncomfortably.

"You're _here_ ," she repeated, "And you favor the color blue. She winked at him at that. Vegeta felt his cheeks get hot. "You detest coffee and most sweet things, except for apple pie- which you love. You train sixteen hours a day, your left eye twitches when you're annoyed, and you have started reading _Beowulf_. Do you like it, by the way?"

"It reminds me of home," Vegeta admitted.

"I would have liked to have seen your home," Bulma admitted, laying back to rest against him once more, "What was it like?"

His arm curled around her protectively, instinctively, desiring nothing more than to hold close the only good thing in his life. "It was red," he recalled, "Hot. Dry. Only the strongest survived." He paused and then added, smirk forming on his lips, "You would have fit right in."

"I dare say that was another compliment."

"It was."

She hummed contentedly at that, and they fell silent. It was comfortable, pleasant even, and for the first time in what he imagined his entire life, Vegeta felt at ease. After a while, Bulma spoke again.

"I respect you."

She moved to hover over him, arms holding her steady against his chest. Anyone else would have made him feel threatened, but not Bulma. Never Bulma. "That's the right thing to say, right?"

Vegeta nodded. "And I respect you," he repeated back.

"You said you loved me, today," Bulma continued. "It's not normal, is it, for Saiyans to love?"

"No. It is frowned upon."

"Then why do you?"

"Because you deserve nothing less."

Her eyes widened at that. "Wow.."

"What?"

"That was just... nice to hear."

"It is the truth."

Bulma shrugged. "Still. It's nice." She waited a beat, then added, "Yamcha and I broke up- well, for a lot of reasons, but one of those was because he accused me of having feelings for you. And I couldn't deny it."

"What sort of 'feelings'?"

"Trust. Respect. Admiration. Desire. Lust." She paused, then added cryptically, "Maybe a few other things."

"You did not feel those things for the weakling?"

"Yamcha," she corrected, then carried on. "I did at one point, I suppose. But I didn't love him. Not enough to promise him forever."

"You did not want to mate with him."

She made a face. "Well I mean, we had sex. But in terms of what you mean: mating for life, then no. I didn't want to _mate_ with him."

Vegeta's brow furrowed as he processed her remark. "Humans can mate with multiple partners," he said, trying to understand.

Bulma sensed his unease with the subject. "Yeah. It's different for humans. Mating for you, it seems, is a one and done deal. It's our equivalent to marriage. However mating for you is the act of sex as well as the concept of choosing your partner, right?"

He nodded.

"So on Earth, people would do what you call 'mating' numerous times. Here we call it dating. Or merely 'sleeping with' someone. Though there's not much _sleeping_ involved." She arched a brow at him knowingly and he grumbled and flushed. "Anyway. Some only ever have sex with the person they marry. Some choose never to have sex. Some hire prostitutes. You know what-"

"Yes I know what a prostitute is!"

Bulma giggled. "Just checking. But to answer your question, yes, I've had sex. With Yamcha. And I'm guessing according to your customs, that should be like it. Boom." She clapped her hands together. "Mated for life. But for us, humans, it's only official when it's legally binding through the courts. We sign a document that legally binds the two of us together. The wedding- the big party I mentioned- is just a celebration. A formality. Sex, or consummating, comes afterward, usually referred to as the 'wedding night'."

"But to become mates you must sign a piece of paper?"

"Yep."

"Paper can be destroyed."

Bulma tilted her head to the side, lips pursed as she considered, then nodded once in agreement. "True. But you can only end the marriage by divorce. The marriage is still valid if you rip up the paper. Or, well, that would probably be a more symbolic way of ending the marriage. To officially end it, you again have to go to court. If you don't go through a legal system, how do you make a mating official?"

"Two Saiyans agree that they prefer each other over all others. They then join houses, and... mate. During the act, both bite each other here-" he lifted his hand and touched Bulma's neck in the place he longed to bite, to mark her. From the way she trembled, he could tell she imagined it too, and found it pleasing. "It scars, and declares to all that you have a mate. Not long after, a child is produced."

"You Saiyans and your scars," Bulma mused, "Can't do something painless like wedding rings." Vegeta didn't understand what a wedding ring was. Before he could ask, Bulma pushed on, "So it's also safe to assume that if we mated, you'd want a child?"

"It is expected of Saiyan royalty to continue the lineage."

"Sure, but do you want a child?"

He considered it a moment. He'd never thought he had a choice. It seemed he did. After deliberating, he came to a conclusion. "I would not see the line of Vegeta end with my demise."

Bulma nodded, understanding. "I'm human, you know."

"I'm aware."

"And you'd still want me to produce your kid? I don't know if you know how genetics work but-"

"The child would be a half-breed. I'm not an idiot, Woman."

Bulma raised a hand in defense. "Just checking."

Vegeta ignored her and continued, "I see no other alternative. If I am to produce an heir with someone who is not of Saiyan blood-as would be the only option- then I would only choose you."

Bulma stilled, surprised at his words. She smiled then, that soft gentle look that Vegeta craved and leaned close to him. "Sweet talker," she purred as she pressed a kiss to his lips. She started to pull away, but Vegeta was too fast, rolling over to catch her beneath him. She blinked up at him in surprise, eyes darkening and breath hitching as she felt him press against her.

"You know me now," Vegeta said, "And I know you. And we understand our differences and accept them. You know what I expect and do not seem to have any objections. But I will honor your request and ask you to be my mate tomorrow. Is that acceptable?"

"You'll have to get down on one knee."

Vegeta stopped short. "What?"

"Well, technically you're proposing- asking me to be your mate- and it's tradition for the person doing the proposing to get down on one knee."

"Showing submission to the other."

Bulma considered it, idly lifting her hand to play with Vegeta's hair. "I suppose that's one way to look at it. How do Saiyans ask?"

"They simply discuss the matter and come to a mutual understanding."

"Hmm. Practical."

"As are most things with Saiyans."

Bulma made a face, humming in thought. "I suppose I can go without the official proposal. Practicality is more appealing in my old age."

"Aren't you only thirty?"

"Thirty-one. How did you even know that?"

He ignored her question. "That's not old."

Bulma giggled. "Keep it up, tough guy. You're better at this than you realize."

"I am merely stating a fact."

She smiled. "I like facts. Particularly when they're complimentary to me."

"You are a strange creature."

"But you love me." At his look of bewilderment at how easily she remarked upon that fact, she laughed. "You can't deny it! You told me so yourself!"

"And I have yet to hear the sentiment returned," he said gruffly, but not callously. "Trust and respect are all I require. But if you value loving your mate, as I assume you do since you are human- I would want you to feel that too."

Bulma sobered instantly at that. She looked at Vegeta for a long moment, relishing how comfortable she felt in his embrace, his strength a solid reminder that they would survive the oncoming invasion of androids.

"You said love was frowned upon in your culture."

"It is."

"But you want to hear it all the same."

"I want nothing of the sort."

"Fine. Be stubborn." Bulma lifted her head and pressed her lips to Vegeta's.

He breathed her in, allowing himself to remember the moment. "Even if you do not love me, or agree to be my mate, I will defeat the androids for you."

"Because you love me."

"Yes."

"And respect me and trust me."

"Yes."

"Well. You should probably know that I trust, respect, and love you too."

"You should not say it if you do not mean it."

Bulma pushed Vegeta, and he allowed them to roll over, so she was once more laying over him. "I never say things I don't mean," she informed him plainly, "It wouldn't be practical."

"No it would not." One hand held her to him, pressed tightly together. The other wound in her hair, relishing the feel of soft curls. She sighed into the touch, eyes slipping shut in contentment. After a moment she opened her eyes, studied Vegeta for a long moment, then spoke.

"I changed my mind," she said decidedly, "I want you to ask me right now."

"Why?"

She gave him a dry look. "You going to ask or not?"

"Would you agree to be my mate?" He asked, the words coming forth with ease.

"I will," she answered softly, and sealed her promise with a searing kiss.

\-------

"So what happened next?"

They were still in the field, curled together between the sheet to ward off the evening chill. Bulma lay content against Vegeta, completely at ease save for the throbbing pain in her neck, a harsh but treasured reminder of what had transpired between herself and the Saiyan beside her.

To think, a day ago, she'd been single and wondering if she ought to amp up her flirting with Vegeta. Now here she was, naked in his arms, for all intents and purposes his wife.

"Ume returned home and dedicated her life to battle. She was stripped of her title and was always looked down upon with scorn for her actions."

Bulma paused, waiting for some redemption to come from Vegeta's lips. When it was clear he was finished with his tale, Bulma felt her stomach sink. "Wait. That's it?" She breathed, "She just....goes back and loses everything?"

"Saiyan morality tales are not meant to be encouraging."

"No shit, if that's how they all end!"

"She let love blind her, fled from her partner to be with another, and her actions got both mate and lover killed. You're lucky the story doesn't end with her stoned or beheaded."

"Damn, Vegeta. That's.... awful."

"That's the Saiyan way."

"Well, when we do have a child, remind me to leave that off the list of bedtime stories."

Vegeta snorted at that, and pulled Bulma closer. "How is your neck?"

"Hurts like a bitch," Bulma replied adjusting herself and trying to stifle the wince that came with the movement. "But totally worth it."

She felt Vegeta relax against her, pleased with her words. "How's yours?"

"I barely feel it."

"Well excuse me, I bit you as hard as I could! Why can't Saiyans do something simple like exchange gifts? I can't help it if I'm not able to properly mutilate you!'"

He laughed at that, a small exhale of air through his nose. "It was a commendable effort."

Bulma huffed. "You're just being nice because you got laid."

It was natural to assume 'laid' was a slang term for sex, and he found himself agreeing that yes, the act had left him quite satisfied.

"So, about Ume," Bulma said, returning to the tale he'd told her, "I would view her story as a tragedy. There are plenty of stories here where someone is in a loveless marriage but they fall in love with someone else. They're meant to be seen as tragic for the person- usually a woman- and you're supposed to feel bad that she was never able to achieve that happiness. But I guess, if love and happiness aren't tenants of Saiyan culture, those things we as humans value, you wouldn't see it so much as a tragedy but rather a lesson learned the hard way."

"Exactly," Vegeta agreed, "Ume is not meant to inspire pity. She is meant to invoke disgust."

"Shame," Bulma sighed. "You know, I have to admit, growing up with stories like that, I'm amazed you ever admitted to loving me. Like, you were told not to do one thing and then you did it."

"Perhaps I'm a renegade."

She giggled at that, and lifted her hand to caress his jaw. "You must be. But still, I'm curious, oh usually stoic and serious Vegeta, why _did_ you choose to tell me you love me? It goes against _everything_ you were raised to be. And you're the most Saiyan out of all the Saiyans I've met, which granted aren't that many."

Vegeta felt a moment of pride at her words of praise, though he doubted she was aware of how much the sentiment meant to him. The most Saiyan? Even with her limited experience, she knew what it meant to be Saiyan, and her acknowledging him as she had was quite pleasing.

She was right though. His father, his people, they would be horribly disappointed in how far he'd fallen. But perhaps that was the point. He was a Saiyan, and would always strive to prove himself, but there was a distinct difference between himself, and the rest of his kind.

"Perhaps it's because everyone who ever believed otherwise is dead."

There was a moment of silence, then Bulma rose up to look at him. "Oh, no Vegeta, I didn't mean-"

He sat up with her, holding out a hand to silence her. "You meant nothing cruel," he said, "You can be loud and insulting, but you are never cruel. It is an aspect of your character that is so different from a Saiyan's, and one I find I admire in you. I am a Prince to a dead race. There are so few left. If I am to survive to see that legacy carried on, I can no longer live- no longer believe- as I once did. And if my survival relies upon my choosing to love another, then I will do it. At any rate, who's going to stop me?"

"It must be hard, though. To behave in a way that you've grown up being told was wrong."

"I will manage. But know this: I understand love, but I am still Saiyan. And a Saiyan's family life is private. When mates leave their home for battle, quarrels are put aside and they work together for a greater goal. There is no romance. There is no kissing. There is no boasting of relationships to others. The mark is enough to show that you have mated and to inquire further is rude and unacceptable."

"So basically don't tell anyone we're mates or brag about the amazing sex we had-"

"I'm serious, woman. To mate with another is already giving yourself a weakness- one that is inevitable due to the need to procreate- but were others to know my true feelings, they- you- could be used against me. And you cannot protect yourself against these androids. I will not risk you."

Bulma sobered, shifting to pull the sheet around her chest. "I understand. But can I at least tell my parents so long as they agree to keep quiet? No one else need know."

"That is acceptable."

"Okay." She laid back down on the ground and pulled Vegeta down next to her. "Do we have everything settled, then?"

"I believe all matters of concern have been addressed."

"Good. Now I know we did this the Saiyan way, but I think it'd be a real shame If we missed the best part of human marriage rituals"

"And that would be?"

Bulma moved, the sheet falling from her as she straddled Vegeta's hips. "The wedding night."

"Vulgar woman." His hands went to her hips, squeezing gently, and she rocked against him, breath hitching as his hardness pressed against her. She shifted, gasping as he pushed himself into her, and he groaned at the pleasure that struck him. Above him, Bulma sighed in pleasure.

"Still don't know the half of it," she breathed, hands resting on his shoulders and rocking against him.

"Then show me."

 

 


End file.
